Nightmares: The 67th Annual Hunger Games
by Rivalsa
Summary: In Progress It's the 67th Annual Hunger Games, and Head Gamemaker Grayson Helm has a whole new set of horrors to unleash on the tributes. Rated T for potential violence and gore.
1. Chapter 1: The Arena

**Chapter 1: The Arena**

On the ground below, a mockingjay trilled a single note of warning before the hovercraft drifted into view. From inside the machine, however, Head Gamemaker Grayson Helm was unaware of the bird below signaling his approach to the surroundings. Instead, the man was preoccupied with the landscape beneath him. His full mouth creased into a frown as he narrowed his steel gray eyes.

"Something still isn't right," he spun on his heel and paced in front of the other gamemakers. The games were in a matter of weeks, and despite his best efforts, Helm simply felt the arena was, to put it midly, lacking. It's not that it wouldn't challenge the tributes, it just did not reach the level of diabolical perfection he was aiming for. Prowling back to the window, he glowered down at the landscape before intoning, "it needs something... more."

The hovercraft swayed slightly in the strong winds above the arena. The elements were all there… blood thirsty mutts, geological horrors, just enough food to survive on, but the overall vision was somewhat lacking. One of the gamemakers quietly discussed the possibility of some new muttations, for use in a climactic scenario, but Grayson shook his head wearily. They had plenty of hybrid monsters at their disposal, but they needed something more.

The position of Head Gamemaker was extraordinarily difficult. The amount of necessary creativity to make sure that the arena was unique, and both difficult to navigate, but possible to survive was a challenge. The key was that the arena had find a delicate balance between insurmountable and normal. The tributes needed to have hope that they could survive the arena if they played the game properly, but yet never feel completely comfortable while inside the force field. After all, this was the Hunger Games, and they should remember that the gamemakers were watching every move, every step, and every breath.

_That's it_, Grayson thought to himself, finally allowing a small, satisfied smirk cross his chiseled features. Silencing the other gamemakers with a jerked hand motion, he pressed a button to communicate with the pilote. "We've seen all we needed to, please return us to the Capitol.'

He had it. He had the winning idea, to build the tributes up, then abruptly smash their hope into despair. The smirk had changed into a full blown grin, and he hastily began to sketch his ideas on the nearest available screen. The trip to the arena might have been a long and arduous one, but absolutely worth it in Helm's mind. Production would have to start almost immediately to have the arena ready in time, but Helm was confident this one last change would make everything worth it. This was his first year as Head Gamemaker, and he was determined to make the Games a truly memorable experience for the citizens of Panem. Meanwhile, clouds drifted lazily by the windows of the hovercraft, light and floating and free.

**Author's Note: **The following is the tribute list. Due to an unfortunate turn of events, the story was deleted for a non-content chapter (completely my fault, but has been remedied), so I am reposting. Best of luck, and Happy Hunger Games to all!

**Tribute List: **Name (age), Mentor

**District 1**

**Male: **Chase Stone (18), Stark

**Female: **Chime Prewett (16), Melody

**District 2**

**Male: **Ares Vector (18), Tripp

**Female:** Varice Hall (17), Liya

**District 3**

**Male: **Coil Brennan (15), Venn

**Female: **Matrix "Trix" Reed (13), Lectric

**District 4**

**Male: **Solstus Faerbilt (18), Carp

**Female: **Windsor Thern (18), Finley

**District 5**

**Male: **Volt Wilks (18), Dern

**Female: **Sage Concord (17), Saera

**District 6**

**Male: **Tobias Greene (12), Cooper

**Female: **Ella Fiyere (14), Mirth

**District 7**

**Male: **Redwood "Red" Spire (18), Bark

**Female: **Jessalyn "Jess" Harlow (16), Fern

**District 8**

**Male: **Mesh Ellet (15), Patch

**Female: **Pepper Flannelette (17), Seam

**District 9**

**Male: **Locke Stern (17), Jayne

**Female: **Corynn Smyly (12), Thea

**District 10**

**Male: **Hartford Gray (13), Everett

**Female: **Bree Hadley (14), Lark

**District 11**

**Male: **Tasi Merkava (16), Graham

**Female: **Kristen Ruehs (17), Bloom

**District 12**

**Male: **Camden Thread (15), Haymitch

**Female: **Adalyn Thread (17), Haymitch


	2. Chapter 2: District 1 Reaping

**District 1 Reaping**

The sun was barely peeking over the horizon, but the majority of the districts were already awake. After all, it was reaping day, and nightmares plagued most children who were old enough to understand the dangers of the Hunger Games. District 1 was one of the few exceptions – a district where most of the children looked forward to the Hunger Games with excitement and longing instead of a crippling fear or panic.

Chime Prewett, while not afraid of the games, had no real interest in them. She was up long before necessary to make it to the reaping in order to prepare herself. Her morning regimen started with a long bath, at least as long of one as her mother and sister would allow, before carefully brushing out her full golden hair. It was her favorite attribute, and she loved to wear it loose and allow it to flow over her shoulders like strands of gold. Next came the outfit, which was usually selected to both show off her assets (and the fact that most people, even in District 1, were too poor for her to waste a moment of time on), and finally, a delicate coating of makeup that she had received for her birthday. It was luxurious stuff, from the Capitol, and she was carefully rationing it for special occasions.

Today counted as one of those. While Chime had no intention of going to the Capitol as a tribute, there was always a chance that one of those camera men might show her on the screen, and she would be whisked away to become an actress in a far off land. It was a silly fantasy, but a girl could dream.

After finally selecting the perfect outfit, a pale pink dress with real strands of silver and gold interwoven with the fibers to make the whole thing shimmer and sparkle, before heading to the breakfast room. She loved her house – her father had spent extravagantly on the two story mini mansion, then had most of the interior decorated with the finest things in the District. Rumor was that it was even nicer than the houses in Victor's Village, but she had never been to one of those. Chime paused on the landing to check her hair in a mirror attached to the wall when she heard her parents arguing in soft tones below her. Never one to miss out on some good gossip, she leaned closer.

"You mean unless we come up with some money very soon, our whole family will be homeless? What about your investments? Onyx, you told me nothing was wrong!" Her mother sounded agitated, and Chime froze. Her family? Penniless? Unless they came up with a large sum of money very quickly.

The only thing preventing her from sinking to the ground was the worry that it would wrinkle her dress. Chime was barely 16, and her sister was too young to volunteer. After the required training sessions, Chime knew that she could hold her own in the arena – especially with her good looks, she knew she would never be hurting for sponsors. She gripped the stairway banister nervously, knowing that she was contemplating doing something now that she never would have before today. One last look in the mirror, and she lifted her head and set her mouth in a stubborn expression. Her family would not be penniless, and live as beggars on the street. She was going to volunteer for the Hunger Games.

Across town, in Victor's Village, Chase Stone had just awoken. He yawned leisurely, stretching his arms above his head and enjoying the general comfort of his bed for a few remaining minutes. There was no fear in the events of today for him, after all he had already decided he was going to be the next victor of the Hunger Games.

It could be torture, living with a previous victor. Obviously, Chase was incredibly proud of his father – after all, the man outlasted 23 competitors and killed a fair number of them himself to be crowned a victor, but Chase knew that he could not stand one more private training session with someone who spoke to him like he was little more than a maggot. Running his hands through his short, sandy blonde hair, he was just contemplating getting up when he head a slight creak from the door, and felt a large weight collapse on top of him.

"Get up, sleepy head! It's your big day, or did you forget that you're going to the Capitol today?" His younger sister chirped at him as she poked him in the stomach a couple of times, just to make sure he was awake. "Come on Chase! You're so slow!" She flopped down on the pillow next to him before he was tempted to tickle her back.

Chase couldn't help but smile when he saw Cassie. She was one of the few people on earth that could make him really, genuinely smile, instead of just putting on his usual charming façade. "Good morning to you too, Cassie! You know, in a couple of weeks when I make the final eight, you're gonna be on television. We should probably start preparing you now, so you have plenty of time to look beautiful…" Chase waited until she made a horrified face at him before launching his attack. He had her pinned, tickled, and begging for mercy within thirty seconds.

Propping herself up against the headboard, Cassie pulled her knees in tight and gave Chase a slightly worried look. "Are… are you scared?" She asked in a hushed tone, barely willing to admit to herself that today might be the last day that she saw her older brother alive.

Chase was already out of bed and rummaging through his closet for an acceptably camera ready outfit when he heard his sister's comment. Though she was fifteen, and probably perfectly capable of taking care of herself, she was the light of his life. He cared more about protecting her than anyone on the planet, and the idea that leaving for the Games might hurt her was devastating. Immediately he was back by her side, wrapping his arms around her for a hug. "Don't you worry about a thing, Cass, okay? I'm not scared at all, and you definitely shouldn't be. I have the best trainer in the district, remember?" he joked lightly. "Besides, when I come back, we'll have our own house in Victor's Village! All to ourselves. Wouldn't that be fun?"

His attempts to cheer his sister up were working, and she gave him a half-hearted grin. "It would be nice to get away from the drill sergeant downstairs," she covered her smile with her hand, as if her father might have heard the comment and already be preparing a new, horrible training exercise as revenge. Confident that his sister was feeling better, Chase was about to turn and begin searching for the perfect set of clothes when Cassie grabbed his arm. "One more thing. I want you to have this."

Chase looked down at his hand and saw his sister's lucky coin. "But Cassie, this is yours… I can't take this from you."

She set her mouth in a mulish line, and Chase couldn't help but think of how stubborn she could be when she wanted to. "It's just for a couple of weeks remember? You can bring it back to me when you're a victor. Besides, you'll need it more than I do. You'll need all the luck you can get with our stylists." Chase rolled his eyes. She was completely right – the District 1 stylists had gone out of style many years previously, but no one had bothered to tell them. Last year, they sent the tributes out dressed as giant diamonds. Not only did it mask their physiques, and render them completely unattractive, but the lights shining off the surface made them about as easy to look at as staring into the sun.

Closing his fingers around his token, he shooed his sister out of his bedroom. Suddenly, he was faced with the idea that if he didn't come back, she would have lost both her lucky coin and her older brother. He shook off the idea and reminded himself of the fame, the glory, and the respect waiting for him on the other side. Choosing a gray suit with a light blue shirt to set off his eyes, Chase took a deep breath. Arranging his face into his most confident, most charming expression, he sauntered downstairs and towards the town center. _Let the games begin…_

Carraway Shell surveyed the gathering children with no small amount of glee. She'd been begging for months, and she was finally bumped up to a good district, one with a reasonably amount of victors and a decent chance of winning in any given year. For years, she'd been stuck in District 8 – let's be honest, it's not like they were the real contenders in the games. Every so often they had one or two worthwhile tributes, but most of them were bloodbaths. Year after year of being peppy to bloodbath tributes was really taxing to a person! When the District 1 escort finally retired, Carraway jumped at the opportunity.

She'd even lucked out with the two mentors this year. The man, Stark, was in his mid thirties. He had won using a combination of manipulation and brute strength. Those tributes he couldn't best physically, he goaded into fighting each other. When they were weak enough, he struck. No one saw him as a true threat compared with some of the other Careers until the very end, but by then it was too late. The woman, Melody, was slightly older but still bore the classic good looks of District 1. She fooled the audience, and the other tributes, into thinking she was nothing but a spoiled rich girl. The careers protected her, until suddenly she no longer needed their protection, and they ended up dead. Both mentors were huge favorites with the Capitol, and would draw in numerous sponsors.

Practically dancing with anticipation, she fidgeted nervously while the children were corralled into the pens in front of her. By the time Chase arrived, standing at the back with the eighteen year olds, the escort was practically hopping up and down with excitement. Noting the two mentors with interest, Chase couldn't help but grin when he realized Stark would be teaching him. This could not be set up more perfectly if he'd planned it. Chase caught Cassie's eyes across the open space between the men and women, and rolled his eyes dramatically at the new woman. His younger sister gave a small smile, before dropping her gaze quickly to the ground. Only a few rows behind Cassie, Chime was taking her position, her eyes round and her step bouncing.

Finally, all the children were present and accounted for, and Carraway leapt towards the microphone, nearly knocking the entire stand over in her eagerness to begin. "Welcome, welcome! The time has come to select the lucky individuals to compete in the 67th annual Hunger Games! As you know, it is a great honor to be selected to represent your district…"

The speech droned on. Chime, unused to dealing with such boring proceedings, had to stifle a yawn with her hand on more than one occasion. Usually she could get out of this kind of stuff by being pretty. Chase made no effort to pay attention and whispered back and forth to his friends about what he would buy with the victor's money.

"Ladies first!" At some point, Carraway had finished the required speech, and was ready to choose her first tribute. The ball was filled with slips, and she took a moment digging around until she found the one she wanted. "Velour Windsor!" Polite applause was heard as the thirteen year old stepped forward and began to head for the stand.

Afraid she would miss her chance, or afraid she might lose her nerve, Chime took a step into the aisle and stated loudly and clearly: "I volunteer as tribute!" The silence was abrupt. While volunteers were common in District 1, Chime was an unexpected one. She had shown very little interest in training, and dropped it at the soonest possibility. Chase raised his eyebrows slightly at his new district partner. He was hoping for someone a little more… lethal. Chime looked like even Cassie could beat her in a fight. The petite blonde seemed more interested in her appearance than her ability to kill another human being, but having someone attractive on his side might not be a bad thing. Her face smiled beautifully though as she practically danced towards the stage, politely pushing past the reaped girl. Carraway, for her part, was thrilled: this was her first volunteer at any reaping, ever! She shook Chime's hand with a little too much vigor, then thrust the microphone towards her mouth. "My name is Chime Prewett, and I'm so excited to be a part of this year's Hunger Games," she said with a smile and a bat of her eyelashes. Already, she was playing towards the sponsors as best she could.

"Excellent, excellent! Now, for the boys!" Another moment spent digging in the second ball, then: "Atticus Holrn!"

Before the boy could even step out of line, Chase spoke up. "I volunteer as tribute," he stated, confident and sure that no one would dare take his chance at victory. Everyone at the training center knew that this was his year, and if they had even tried he would have taken drastic measures to ensure that he was the tribute in the games. Striding to the stage, he ran a hand through his short hair and smirked at the audience. _Play to the cameras, Chase. These sponsors are yours, no matter what the blonde tries to pull_. Before Carraway could offer him the microphone, he swept into a low bow, saying, "It is a pleasure to meet you madam. My name is Chase Stone." Straightening up, he stepped in front of Chime and Carraway, lifted his arms and yelled to the crowd, "This year's Hunger Games victor!" He then turned, and extended his hand to Chime. She stared up at him through her eyelashes, and smiled in an alluring way as they shook hands.

The cheering followed him all the way to the private room, where he was left to say goodbye to his loved ones. His family was first, his mother, father, and Cassie. His mother said barely anything. His father immediately started in on a lecture. Things to remember, his battle stance, his posture when throwing a weapon, hand to hand combat. A few minutes in, when Chase realized that his time was running out, he cut off his father to pull Cassie for a hug, as she looked on the verge of tears. "I'm coming back, remember? I've gotta be there when you get your first boyfriend to try and scare him off. No one in this district is good enough for my little sister."

She gave him a watery smile and said, "I know," before the peacekeepers pulled his family out of the room. Just like that, he was alone. He'd said the rest of his goodbyes earlier, and none of his friends were really close enough to come and say anything. They were great to party with, sure, but it wasn't like they were that close. Chase sat down by the window, and pulled Cassie's coin out of his pocket, twirling it around his fingers as he waited to leave his home for what could be the last time.

Next door, Chime sat with her family. Her mother, father, and sister just stared at her, stunned that their Chime had volunteered for the reaping. "What were you thinking?" her mother whispered, her head in her hands.

Chime sat very straight, refusing to let herself cry. There would be cameras outside, and she would not show up with streaky makeup in front of the entire country. "I refuse to be poor. I won't let us get sent to the community home, or end up on the streets! If father can't take care of us, I will. I want us to be rich, and have nice things," but her sentence was cut off by her mother's sobs.

"All the money in the world won't mean anything if you're dead," Onyx stated dully. Already the light seemed to be leaving his eyes, he had given up hope that his daughter would come back from the arena. She was so small and so fragile. Against the giants like Chase, what chance did she really stand.

Surrounded by her family's hopeless stares, Chime grew fearful. _What if I made the wrong decision? What if I never come home?_ The desperation started to build when her family said their goodbyes and left her alone, seated in a tiny room guarded by a man in uniform. _What if this is the last time I see my family?_

By the time her hour was up, she was nearly a wreck. Composing herself, she smoothed her dress with shaking hands, and stepped into the hallway where Chase was waiting. He looked at her with pity, seeing the wideness to her eyes that was not innocence, but fear. "So you figured out you're cattle being lead to slaughter, didn't you princess?" He smirked at her. Chime could barely move, but she lifted her chin proudly. If she was just an animal, then she would be the prettiest animal they'd ever seen. They'd be begging her mentor to sponsor her.

"Well, let's get it over with, shall we?" Chase crooked his elbow to her, and after a moment of surprise that he was actually sort of a gentleman, Chime took it with a small smile. "It's not so bad, right? We just have to go get our picture taken a few hundred times," Chase commented with a laugh. When he noticed that Chime ducked her head to hide a grin, he couldn't help but smile himself. _She's right where I want her. As long as she thinks I'm not a threat, and that I'm here to protect her, she's easily to ignore, and easy to dispose._

Arm in arm, they walked towards the train, knowing that at least one of them would never make the return journey.


	3. Chapter 3: District 2 Reaping

**Author's Notes:**

I'd also like to thank everyone who submitted, and everyone who reviewed (special thanks to 3rdbase101, who caught an embarrassing spelling mistake in my last chapter). I hope you enjoy this chapter, and I love all of your feedback! These two tributes are possibly some of my favorites, I think their dynamic is going to be fabulous. Enjoy!

**Chapter 3: District 2 Reaping**

In District 2, Ares Vector had been up long before the sun rose. In fact, he could barely remember if he'd slept at all that night. This was it, this was the year he was going to volunteer for the games, and he would be the next victor at all costs. A slow smile spread over his face as he sat alone in the training center. He had been preparing for this for years – the whole game was nothing but a routine training exercise to him at this point. Reaping, chariot, training, interview. Balance, position, parry, thrust. Careers, Cornucopia, final 8, victor. Sidestep, block, turn, kill stroke. The intricate strategy he would employ to keep himself strong, healthy, and alive once he was in the arena. He knew the footwork by heart.

The tall boy pulled himself to his feet and stretched leisurely. There was time for one more workout before the Reaping, one more chance to hone his skills in his home environment. Brushing his shaggy black hair out of his amber eyes, he selected a lethal looking spear and began his ritualistic exercises. They were almost soothing, in a way. A chance to think. No one else was in the training center this early, so it provided a lone moment of solace.

As he tightened his grip on the shaft of the spear, Ares knew that volunteering was the right move for him this year. An only child, he had no family other than his parents – no one to shame if, by some unthinkable turn of events, he lost. His parents were absorbed by their work. Training was the only comfort left to the eighteen year old, and this room, with the cracked mirrors and the barely cushioning floor mats, felt more like a home than his own bedroom. _Honor and pride_, he reminded himself with a particularly complicated maneuver, _you will win to bring honor and pride to your family, your mentor, and your District._

Twenty minutes later, he finished the routine by hurtling the spear the entire length of the room, the force of the throw so hard it buried the spear head in the practice dummy. His mouth barely curved into a small smile before he buried that sense of confidence deep within himself. _Conceit and self assurance are dangerous_, he reminded himself as he began his cool down regimen. Training every day for most of his life had turned him into a machine – an eighteen year old, six foot tall, vicious killing machine.

After trying to pry the spear head out of the dummy for several minutes, he realized that it was hopeless. Ares needed to get home, shower, and change before the reaping. His final reaping. The thought brought a flash of light into his eyes as he left the spear embedded in the dummy, packed his things, and left the training center at an even jog.

Several miles away from the training center, Varice Hall was bored. Incredibly, exceptional, unequivocally bored. The petite seventeen year old jabbed at her porridge with a spoon, narrowing her eyes as if it were a worthy opponent. The district was boring! Training day in, day out – she never really got to apply it. Honestly, if she had to waste another breath practicing by shooting at a dummy, she would just kill herself right now. Sighing dramatically, the seventeen year old shoved her bowl further away on the rough table. "Why can't I volunteer this year?" she snapped at her father, a hint of a whine resonating in her voice. "I'm the best in my year, and better than all of the eighteen year olds!"

Her father shoved her porridge back towards her with a steely glare. Varice returned it, but eventually dropped her gaze and resumed her attempt to spear the mush on the end of her spoon. Dropping into the chair across from her, her father responded, "you are not to volunteer until you are of age," and ended the discussion.

The breakfast ordeal finally completed, Varice stomped up the stairs and slammed the door to her room. She prowled over to the mirror, and bared her teeth in a horrible grimace. "Why won't he let me volunteer! If I went to the Games, we would absolutely have a victor again, and he knows it! Hasn't he been training me for this my whole life?" Her bright blue eyes glared ferociously at her own reflection, as if she could somehow change her father's mind from upstairs. After muttering a few unpleasant words under her breath, she stormed over to the closet and grabbed the first dress she touched. Fashion was hardly her concern, especially since she was not going to participate this year.

Her temper only built as she brushed her dark hair away from her face and pinned it into a simple bun at the back of her head. Varice already had her strategy worked out for the games! She knew she wasn't a natural beauty, at least not one that was good looking enough to have sponsors falling all over her. She would win through determination, manipulation, and skill. Recalling her last archery lesson brought a smug grin to her face – she knew she was a force to be reckoned with, but her father always seemed to disagree.

The dress she had randomly selected was a simple pale blue one that made her icy eyes stand out from her pale face. Stuffing her feet into her one pair of uncomfortable dress shoes, Varice readied herself for another year of disappointment. She stomped down the stairs, only to find that her father had already left, leaving his only daughter alone in the small, shabby home. Narrowing her eyes, Varice balled her hands into fists, and straightened her back. She was tired of practice, of being under her father's thumb, of being the little girl in a room full of adults. She wanted the real thing, the fighting, the games, and most of all, the respect. _If that's how he feels about me, then fine_, she sneered as though her father were directly in front of her, _let's see how he treats me when I'm the victor of this year's games. Everyone will respect me then!_

With that, she was out the door, and on the way to the town square.

Tripp Willet was sprawled in his chair onstage, waiting for the boredom to end so he could get on with the excitement. This was his first year mentoring, and he wanted something decent to work with. There were so many District 2 victors that individually, they barely got a chance to go to the Capitol. The woman, Liya, had only mentored once before, and she had been a victor for quite some time. Trip frowned slightly as he surveyed the boys, already selecting which ones would be absolutely useless. There were those that took the brute strength method, which was such a bore. To be a victor, one needed a combination of ruthlessness, stamina, and intelligence. Leaning back in his chair, Tripp mentally sighed. There was a good chance he was going to get a mindless brute. That was the majority of the District 2 males, and the odds were not in his favor. Was it so wrong that he just wanted someone interesting to mentor? He was so tired of seeing the same old "ruthless killing machine" spiel during interviews that he might eat his own shoe if he had to watch it one more time.

"Colton Brawn!" The escort finally announced, and Tripp rolled his eyes. Colton was the perfect soldier – young, strong, obedient, and absolutely brainless. What a wash out. _What's that?_ A sudden movement from the crowd caught his attention, and Tripp leaned forward slightly. It appeared that all the men were moving away from a single bow in the back. Colton didn't even move, he just turned to stare at this one man.

"I volunteer as tribute," the boy stated clearly, before calmly walking towards the stage. His bright amber eyes appeared interested and intelligent, but his face showed none of the typical emotions on a tribute. No fear, no bloodlust, no excitement – just a calm, controlled, almost scientific curiosity about the proceedings. Extending his hand for the microphone, he gave a small boy of his head to the escort as a thank you, then stated evenly, "My name is Ares Vector."

Tripp raised his eyebrows slightly, and settled back into his chair. No proclamations of certainty of victory, no challenges to the other districts, no attempt to show off of any sort. Not to mention the way all the boys of District 2 appeared to respect him, even revere him as a leader. A vicious smile spread across the mentor's face as he eyed his new tribute. This year might not be such a bust after all.

The escort had already moved on to the women, and pulled out a single slip of paper. "Varice Hall!" Out in the crowd, Varice gave a sulky huff, and began her stormy walk towards the stage. She was livid! Her one chance to rebel against her father and this insane idea that only eighteen year olds were worthy volunteers and the Capitol had taken even that away from her. Of course she was going to compete this year, but why couldn't they have let her volunteer herself? Weren't volunteers better for ratings anyway?

Varice was so caught up in her irritable thoughts that she almost missed the girl to her left. "I vol—" Baring her teeth in anger, Varice brought her foot down as hard as she could in the girl's inseam. This other girl yelped in pain, possibly due to her now broken foot, but didn't continue her sentence. Without even an attempt to hide the disdain for her fallen competitor on her face, Varice stomped up to the stage and thrust out her hand towards her district partner. He solemnly accepted her extended hand, before the two of them were hustled into the Justice Building to say their goodbyes.

No one came for Ares. He meditated in the small room, knowing that his parents had probably gone straight to work after the Reaping. The tall eighteen year old tried to remember if he had told his parents he was volunteering this year. He must have at some point. With a slight shrug, he put them out of his mind. What he needed to focus on was the games ahead.

Tripp was a peculiar selection for the male mentor. He had won his games by outright defying the Career alliance, or any alliance for that matter. He was clever, a thief, and probably all sorts of other despicable things, but he was smart, and Ares knew better than to discount the mental aspect of the Hunger Games. Drumming his finger tips on the arm of the chair, Ares wondered what Tripp might bring to his in game strategy, or how Varice might affect it.

She was a bit of a mystery to him, to be honest. It wasn't as if he hadn't seen her in the training center for years, she had a real talent for some of the weapons, but she was tiny and a total hothead. How useful would she be really, given that she was only five feet tall and weighed barely anything. If his memory served him right, and it usually did, she had a real problem with authority, and that could be dangerous for an alliance. A slight frown formed on his face, causing small wrinkles to form in between his eyebrows. He ruffled his hair thoughtfully, a bad habit that drove his mother crazy when he was younger. Training days would be very informative, he needed to know where she stood: with the Careers, or against them.

It was all Varice could do to avoid rolling her eyes at her father's speech. How dare he lecture her on what to do once she was in the Capitol. Of course she was going to try to win sponsors, of course she was going to show off her skills to the gamemakers, and of course she was going to take the best supplies for herself at the Cornucopia. Varice propped her chin on her hand and tried not to sulk. _When is this hour going to be up already, can't we just get out of here?_ Even her thoughts sounded irritable.

Varice abruptly realized that she had been absently nodding, but her father had stopped talking for some amount of time. Rapidly jerking her head to a stop, she didn't even have the decency to look ashamed at her blatant disregard for what could be her last conversation with her father. The older man gazed as his daughter with an expression she couldn't understand – it looked almost sad. Helpless. The Peacekeepers were opening the door, and as he rose silently from his chair, he took one last look back at his daughter. "You look so much like your mother," and then he was gone.

Up until this point, Varice could remember only three times that she had been caught off guard. Once was during her first fist fight at school, before she realized that anything was fair when struggling to survive. The second time was when her mother had abruptly divorced her father, and run off with a Peacekeeper to another district. The third was when her name was called at the Reaping. In a few moments, her scowl was back, but the feeling of unease stuck with her as she passed by the camera flashes and onto the train. She disliked being surprised, and she disliked the way her father was looking at her even less. Like she was something precious… like she was something he didn't want to lose.


	4. Chapter 4: District 3 Reaping

**Author's Note:** Thank you to all my reviewers and everyone who has submitted a tribute! I can't wait to write about each of them, every single one has been excellent so far. I've updated the tribute list with the new tributes, for anyone who's interested! Also, sorry this chapter took so long? I was about halfway through writing it, when my computer froze. Of course I hadn't saved recently! It made me so grumpy I put off rewriting what I'd lost for a while. Anyway! Enjoy!

**District 3 Reaping**

Coil Brennan was hunched over the kitchen table, which he had claimed as his workspace. His mother was attempting to serve breakfast around his project, sighing in exasperation as the four other children clamored for their food. "Coil, can't you take that somewhere else?" She snapped at her oldest, picking up the youngest of the five and bouncing him on her hip. As the baby continued to cry, she thrust the infant at Coil and said, "if you're not going to eat, at least take care of Circ."

The fifteen year old boy accepted his baby sister without a second glance, not even looking up from her work. He jiggled his leg anxiously while pushing his glasses an inch further up his nose. "But mom, I'm almost done with this board! When I'm done it'll be so – I mean – it's going to –" Mid-sentence, he dropped off, and resumed his intense staring at the components in front of him. His baby sister, Circ, began teetering dangerously on his knee as Coil bent closer to his work, and his mother had to swoop in and rescue the baby before she tipped over entirely.

"Coil! Pay attention!" His mother snapped. She rubbed her fingers on her temples – the stress of raising her five children seemed never ending. Coil was, on his best days, distant and inattentive. On his worst days, he was so absorbed he was borderline incoherent. Her second born, Copper, was a slightly more articulate but just as easily distracted. The twins, Clip and Chip, were too young to be any help around the house, and little Circ was only a few months old.

Her son was so focused on his work, she couldn't even convince him to eat his breakfast. After positioning the other four with their respective bowls of porridge, she tried to coax her son into another brief conversation. "Coil, don't forget. I need you to take your brother to the Reaping today." Coil jerked his head up, his ashy blond hair falling into his eyes as he stared vacantly at his mother. She recognized the look on his face at once, and tried to keep from sighing in exasperation. For being brilliant, he couldn't remember simple instructions most of the time. "Remember? Your father is busy, and I have to take care of Circ and the twins?"

A small sign of recognition flitted across his face before he buried himself in his tinkering. "Oh, right – I mean – the Hunger Games – I guess – it is that time –" He lapsed back into silence after a few stumbled words, grappling for his wire cutters like a blind man searching desperately for a handhold. Baby Circ paused in her favorite meal activity of smearing her porridge all over her face to coo at her older brother, who barely noticed the noise.

Coil's mother couldn't help but feel like her son only really knew who he was when he was working. His inventions, his tinkering consumed every part of his personality. Without wire strippers or a spool of copper wire in his hand, Coil was reduced to something like a very small child. His mother shook her head slightly at her soon (although, with his eyes focused on his work, he was oblivious to her observation). They had the same dark brown eyes, a fact that his mother often used to remind herself that he was, in fact, her child, despite having his father's personality.

Leaning over the table to wipe off her youngest child's face, the older woman smiled at the sight of her family gathered around the table, bickering and talking and trying to pour porridge in each other's hair. She tried to store up good memories such as this one, for the times when everything seemed hopeless. "Coil, why don't you tell me what you're working on?" She said with a smile, in an attempt to draw out her eldest from his uncomfortable shell.

Immediately animated, he launched into an explanation of what appeared to be nothing more than a tangled mess of wires. "See, it's going to be great! The purpose of this device is to create a high frequency pitch that animals can hear but humans can't. The range won't be large enough to annoy the neighbor's dog, but it'll be good enough to protect the rats from getting into our food, I think. If we set it up in the pantry, and press this button here, the range should cover the entire house, assuming we set this lever to be in the full position…" As the rambling speech continued, his mother couldn't help but smile wider at the brightness in her son's eyes.

"Matrix! Come downstairs right this instant, it's time for breakfast!" Her mother's voice broke the thirteen year old out of here reverie. Trix Reed had been sitting in her room, staring out the window, and she hurtled down the stairs quickly before she missed her one chance at eating before the Reaping.

"Mom! Mom, there was a cloud out there that looked just like a horse! At least, I think it's what a horse looks like, that's what horses in my books look like anyway, and it's big and fluffy, and if you don't go upstairs right now you're gonna miss it Mom!" Her bright brown eyes sparkled as she grabbed at her mother's hand, and tried to take her towards the window. Her mother laughed at the antics of her daughter, and tried to avoid the trip to the window.

"After breakfast, little one! I promise, it will still be there after you've eaten something." Chances were good that Trix would have forgotten all about it before the meal was done. Trix was a unique child – plenty intelligent, sure, but the attention span of a goldfish. The poor girl could barely focus, and was usually so excitable that she came across as spastic and peculiar. It was difficult to watch over her, though, the girl had a knack for getting into piles of trouble. Her mother smiled sadly at her youngest child.

"Come on, squirt! Eat your food," Vary, Trix's older brother, was poking at his baby sister to try and get her to focus. Trix would never have made it past elementary school without her older brother. He watched out for her, took care of her – acted like a parent that could watch over her while she was away from home. The two of them were incredibly close, considering their age difference. Vary was nearly seven years older than his younger sister, but they were so attached at the hip they might as well have been twins. They had the same honey blond hair and warm chocolate eyes, full of brightness and charm.

Finally, the little girl had eaten enough food that her mother and brother were satisfied. It was just the three of them, Trix's father had been consumed by an illness when she was just a child. Vary had stepped up as best he could for the family, but it made him even more protective of his sister than had he been able to grow up as just her brother. "Let's go upstairs and pick something out for you to wear today! Remember, you gotta look pretty for the cameras today," Vary commented, poking his sister in the ribs to get her out of her chair.

Scampering up the stairs like a mouse, Trix stopped at the top and bounced on the balls of her feet. Vary slowly climbed up after her, and she chattered to him the entire way. "The other day at school, we were learning bout math! Did you know that I'm named after math? That's pretty cool right, being named after something as well known as math? That means that practically everyone knows my name! Can you believe that? All the districts, and the Capitol, and everyone knows my name! It's like being famous?" Her sharp brown eyes were open as wide as plates as she stared at her brother. He couldn't help but smile at her enthusiasm as they walked to her room.

"Come on, you little runt! We're gonna be late if you keep this up," Vary complained halfheartedly to his sister, who was perusing her closet with the air of someone who just was too fascinated by everything. She finally settled on a simple white dress with yellow sunflowers printed across it, making her look younger and smaller than she actually was. After carefully braiding her hair back, she was finally ready for the Reaping, and Vary took her hand and left the house. He had been trying to push the nerves back all morning – today was another day when his baby sister could be taken away. His throat and chest tightened at the very idea, and he gripped her hand tighter in a moment of panic. Trix glanced at him curiously, but he simply looked at her with a faint smile, and continued her stream of dialogue as they left for the town square.

The escort for District 3 was a rather subdued man, by Capitol standards. The man was in his forties, with the beginnings of slight wrinkles forming around his eyes. As he took the stage, waiting for the children to file into their respective spots, he stepped over to speak to this year's mentors. When he spoke, his voice was quiet and reserved, like listening to velvet. "Good morning, Venn, Lectric. How has your year been?"

The male mentor, Venn, was one of the older victors. He had won at the age of 16, but that was many yeas ago. By now, he was practically a fixture in the Hunger Games, as much a part of the games as the Cornucopia itself. His gray hair shot away from his head like a frizzled halo, and the crevices in his face gave him a bit of a crazed appearance. "Cress. It's nice to see you," he barked at the escort, while his female counterpart Lectric nodded to acknowledge the golden haired Capitol man.

Cress pulled up a chair and began to quietly converse with the two mentors. Of all the Districts, this one was by far his favorite. The intelligence, the creativity, and the ingenuity of these people was surpassed by no one else in Panem, Venn was one of his favorite victors in the District, the grizzly old man had quite a bark on him, and a reputation as an infamous strategist. Lectric was younger than her male counterpart, but shared the same quiet intelligent aura that radiated off Venn. She was on the quiet side, which played to her advantage in the Games. The Career pack had completely written her off as a bloodbath. So, that night, when they went hunting for tributes, no one expected her to salvage their leftovers into a deadly trap that took out half the pack in a single day. By the time they realized the quiet girl from District 3 was their true competitor, she had ripped them apart. Cress smiled at her, an expression that she hesitantly returned before relapsing into her thoughtful stare. This year's tributes certainly had a chance, with the talents of the two in front of him.

The mayor gestured him forward, and Cress stepped up to the microscope. The sun glittered off of his gold tuxedo, as he began the introductions. The crowd before him appeared to be paying mild attention to his speech, but most of them were bored, fidgety, and squinting in the sun. Coil stood in the crowd of fifteen year old boys, rocking back and forth on the balls of his feet, tearing absentmindedly at a fraying strong on the edge of his shirt when he suddenly realized everyone was staring at him. He blanched, putting the pieces together – although he'd missed the name, the only reason they would stare at him in this way would be because he was the tribute.

The blond haired boy began shaking like a leaf. It took nearly a minute for him to remember how to work his feet, and nervously scuffle towards the stairs. His eyes were open so wide, he was afraid they would pop out of his head. The stairs appeared before he was prepared, and stumbling on the first step, he tripped forwards and caught himself on his hands before his face could hit the stage. A gravely voice growled, "Up you go, youngin'," and Coil found himself staring up into the grizzled features of the male mentor. Before he could even realize what was happening, Coil found himself standing next to the escort.

After years of practice, Cress was perfectly able to conceal his pity, but deep down he felt that this poor, stumbling boy didn't have a chance in the world. Sure, many of the previous games had been won with intelligence, but a little bit of capability and strength made the process significantly less damaging. Turning his attention to the second ball, the escort snared a small piece of paper in between his slim fingers, and read in his even voice, "Matrix Reed."

A horrible cry erupted from the family's section before the girl could even move from her position in line. Peacekeepers held back her brother as Trix was forcefully lead towards the stage, fear creeping onto her features as she began to understand the journey she was about to make. Trix was good with numbers, and she knew that statistically, she had only one chance in twenty four of making this more than a one way trip. Her eyes flickered frantically from side to side, and she babbled nervously to the peacekeepers, to the escort, and to the boy standing near her, hoping that someone would take pity on her.

Cress obligingly asked for volunteers, but the square was silent other than the sound of harsh sobbing. With a sigh, Cress finished his remarks, then ushered the tributes into the Justice Building. Behind him, a voice shouted, "Don't take her somewhere I can't follow!"

The peacekeepers detained Vary for a few minutes before he was allowed to see his sister, minutes that he could never get back, and minutes that he resented them for taking away from him. Trix was curled into a small ball in the corner, sobbing so hard she had to pant for breath. Her mother stayed next to her, holding her hands as Vary rubbed her back, trying to soothe the round of hiccups that took the place of her tears. "It's going to be okay, I promise," he told his sister, his face grim. "I don't care how much money it costs, we're going to sponsor you, and give you everything you need. I'm still going to take care of you."

Their time together was far too short, and Trix was left alone too soon. Sniffing and rubbing her itching eyes, she didn't even have the energy to cry any longer. She had passed almost completely into shock – the idea that she could be dead in a few weeks was so ludicrous it seemed impossible. _Besides, Vary's going to help, remember? He'll send me things, he'll look after me_, the blond haired girl told herself, in an attempt to build confidence. A nagging thought broke through as she waited to be lead to the train, and tears began to well in her eyes again – _what if he can't keep me safe?_

Coil's mother sat alone in her kitchen for a moment after depositing her four other children into the second room just for a second of quiet. No parent should have to bury their child, and the realization that she might see her son next as a quiet, bloodless corpse in a simple wooden box had destroyed her spirit. Coil was so gentle, how could he ever kill twenty three other children? Even to survive, she wasn't sure that her son had that kind of viciousness inside of him. She had tried to be strong, the whole walk home from the Justice Building, tried to be the rock for her children. Here, alone, the sight of Coil's last project, his unfinished final invention, shattered her into a million different pieces.


	5. Chapter 5: District 4 Reaping

**Author's Note:** As always, thank you to my faithful reviewers! Sorry this is so late, the end of the school year has been taking all of my time recently, and it's been horrible. I tried to make this chapter extra long to make up for it! I've selected my final tribute for District 5, so the submissions are closed. I'm sorry to everyone who did not have a tribute selected, but I hope you choose to submit for my next story. Random side note: I am super excited to write a Solstus/Ares interaction. I can just picture the two of them vying for control of the Careers, and it's going to be super epic. But, I'm getting ahead of myself. Presenting, the tributes from District 4!

**District 4 Reaping**

"Hurry up, old man!" The slender redheaded girl jogged in place at the top of the hill, a devious smile playing across her features. "You've gone soft in your old age. How do you expect to be able to compete with anyone if you can't even catch them?" Her teasing was directed at the muscular giant easily jogging up the hill. The boy took a swipe at her when he finally reached the top, but she easily dodged his blow with a wicked grin. "See what I mean, Solstus? You're way too slow to be a victor!"

Solstus roared with laughter at her taunting. "It's true Lunae! What will I do once I'm in the Games, without your charming wit to protect me?" He feinted away from her kick, and quickly parried with a mock punch towards her arm. The two continued to halfheartedly spar at the top of the hill until finally, Solstus cornered his sister in a powerful headlock. He had the weight and muscular advantage on her, but she was fast and deadly in one on one combat. The tall boy always felt that she was by far his best training partner, and probably the only person his age that he could say he truly loved.

This sparring session completed, the two of them paused to watch the sunrise over the ocean. The water seemed endless from the top of the hill, and the way it sparkled in the morning light was different each day. It seemed strange that someone who had been practically raised to be a killing machine would stop each morning and watch the sunrise, but for Solstus, it was his favorite part of the day. Lunae glanced towards him, and he knew that in that moment, they were both thinking the same thing, something their mother always said. "It's beautiful," Lunae murmured softly.

"Beauty is one of the greatest gifts a human can have," Solstus responded quietly, not wanting to ruin the spell of the morning. The sun continued its leisurely stroll above the horizon, and after the sky began to lose the glowing pinks and oranges of the morning, the two redheads turned back to each other. "What do you say, Lunae, are you up for some weapons training before my big day?" Solstus joked.

Lunae tossed her long, bright hair, a contrast to her brother's short, dark locks, and sneered at him. "Please. You need all the help you can get with that sword before you go into the arena. Everyone in the district knows that I can disarm you," she swayed her hips as she flounced away towards the training building. Solstus rolled his eyes – both of them knew that he was the best in the district with a sword, but Lunae hated to be second best at anything. While partially it was due to the fact that he had picked a weapon unusual in the fishing district, it was also due to his perseverance and his training schedule. Few men or women were trained by their mothers, but then again, few men or women had the mother that he did. The thought of his family made him smile – he was so lucky to have them all, even though his sister could be a little bit of a brat when she didn't get her way.

In between their sparring practice, Lunae grinned wickedly at her brother. "What do you think they'll dress you as for the Chariots, Sols? Maybe a fish like last year, or just green and covered in scales like the year before?" She danced out of the way of his sharp jab, and giggled at the idea of her brother dressed like a strange reptile. The clang of their swords cut through the laughter of the others in the training room. Another pair in particular stopped their training to comment.

"No way, Lunae!" Solstus glanced over to see his training friends Nafia and Siletta leaning on their spears, curious about their conversation. "We're hoping he'll just be in a… how should we put it… strategically placed net?" The two twins were tall, slender girls with the typical district sea green eyes. Lunae gagged at the image of her brother in nothing but a 'strategically placed net,' and the twins cracked up at her face.

Solstus flashed his bright white smile as he roared in laughter, then stabbed the point of his sword into the ground and posed with it suggestively. "Will this get me more sponsors, do you think? Maybe just some cleverly positioned seashells instead of a net?" The twins were practically convulsing in laughter, and Lunae pretended to throw up in the corner.

Finally, her brother's awkward posing was just too much for her to handle. By the time he was suggestively posing over a trident (a trident that he could barely use, for the record), Lunae was concerned she might not be able to keep her breakfast down. Rolling her eyes at the twins, who had to put their weapons down to avoid any accidental, laughter induced injuries, Lunae grabbed her brother's arm and began to drag him away. "Come on, Solstus! We gotta get breakfast and clean up before the reaping. We don't want those sponsors to get the wrong impression of you because you're on national television all sweaty and gross." With one last wave, Solstus headed for home at his sister's side.

Windsor Thern was planning on being this year's female tribute, but, unlike her male counterpart, she had not spent the morning training. Instead, she had spent the morning on her father's fishing boats, trying to catch enough food to feed her family. Her dirty blonde hair was pulled back from her face in an intricate braid, but small pieces still pulled out and fluttered around her face in the wind.

"Ready, Wind?" Her father caught her blue green eyes with his identical ones, and flashed her a quick smile. Windsor grinned back, and the two of them began to haul in the nets. She loved his place, out here on the ocean – the soothing rock of the boat, and the feel of the rope in her hands was like second nature to her. It was the only place she truly felt free.

Training had never really worked for Windsor. She was tall and athletic, but being trapped indoors trying to do repetitive exercises with no real immediate advantage to her family just seemed like a waste of time for her. She would rather be on the boats, helping her father provide, or doing something useful. Years of working for her food, reeling the boats, and hauling the nets had made her lean and strong. Although she didn't have the same highly defined muscles of those who trained every day, her endurance and real world skills made her a tough competitor.

"We got a good catch today, dad!" Windsor noted, encouraged. The nets were practically full, making the deck of the small boat covered in wriggling, scaly, fish. This catch would keep her family fed for quite some time – what they couldn't eat and save, they would sell at the market and use the money for at least a week. "What'll you guys do without me while I'm gone?" She joked quietly, as she and her father gathered the sails to return to the docks.

"Don't worry about us, Wind. We'll be fine until you get back," her father said softly with a slight smile. Her father's confidence meant everything to her, and the blond girl accepted his smile with relief. The idea of going to the Hunger Games, and facing all those tributes who had trained every day of their lives for this, was incredibly intimidating.

The trip back to port was a quiet one, today was an intense day. By the time the two had hauled their catch back to the house, Windsor was practically shaking with stress. The sight of her two brothers was the only thing that calmed her. The twins were only six years old, and the light of her life. Picking up one in each arm, Surf and Sail, burst out laughing as she twirled them around, squealing "Windy, Windy, Windy!"

Seeing the two of them reminded her why she was volunteering. Placing the two of them back on their chairs, Windsor paused by her mother, and asked in a hushed voice, "How are they today?"

Her mother, a tall woman with gray streaks in her dark blonde hair, looked at her daughter sadly. "They… they are okay. No worse than usual, but definitely no better." She turned her eyes towards the sink, unable to look her daughter in the eye. There was a desperation in her face that she didn't want her daughter to see.

The twins were sick. They had an illness that couldn't be cured in the district, and without a significant amount of money to send them to the Capitol, neither of them had hope for survival beyond the age of ten. But how could a mother make this decision? How could she choose between her eldest, and only daughter, or her two sons?

Windsor felt that she had made the decision on her own. The Hunger Games seemed like the obvious solution – she could make the money her family needed and save her brothers, as long as she could survive a few weeks. Kissing her mother quickly on the cheek, Windsor gave her a brief smile, before dashing up the stairs to get changed for her big moment.

There wasn't enough time to bathe, so Windsor did the best she could. She quickly brushed out her wavy shoulder length hair, and applied a light layer of makeup to bring out the color in her bright eyes. She chose a blue green wrap dress that mimicked the movement of the waves on the ocean, and a pair of white sandals. Observing herself in the small mirror, she tried to put on her best smile. "Well, I guess it's time to go."

This year's District 4 mentors were already seated on the platform. Finley, the female mentor, was waving slightly to particular individuals in the crowd as they filed in, her smile winning and bright. She had only mentored a few times before, but she had a reputation around the district for being bright, and sunny. The brunette had won her games by maintaining the Career alliance until the very end. Her polite, calm, even temper helped hold the strongest together until the final five, which was unusual – usually the Careers didn't make it that long as a pack.

The male mentor was almost a complete opposite to his female counterpart. Carp was older, gruff, and grouchy. He had seen many a mentored tribute be killed in the arena, and eventually he learned that it was better to not get attached to those he mentored. It was easier to watch them die if he pretended he didn't care. His blue eyes caught Fin's for a second, and he almost pitied her. She didn't have the experience to see that she was too emotionally invested in these children. Even on a good year, only half of those she got close to would make it back to the district.

The mayor's speech was traditional and boring. At this point, most people just tuned it out. Solstus caught Lunae's eye, and mouthed some of the words along to it, making ridiculous faces to go along with the more poignant phrases. She had to stuff her hand in her mouth to keep from laughing, and he bared his perfect white teeth at her in a grin. Finally, it was time for the actual reaping to take place, and Windsor didn't even hear the name that was called before she shouted –

"I volunteer!"

It was almost immediate. A million eyes turned and were instantly on her, and Windsor tried to remember how to smile, how to look pretty before the cameras caught onto her position, and how to work her legs. Finally, after frantically scanning the crowd for her family, she kept her eyes trained on them as she glided towards the platform. Holding her head high, she smiled politely at the escort, and leaned into the microphone to introduce herself. "My name is Windsor Thern, and I am honored to represent my home in this year's Hunger Games."

Finley regarded her new tribute with some interest. The girl was definitely beautiful, but she didn't seem interested in using it. Instead of playing to the crowd, she appeared to be fixated on one spot in the citizen's section, and she smiled earnestly towards that area. The camera crew had to move over to get a better shot of her face, because she simply had no interest in what they were doing. Windsor only had eyes for something out there in the mass of people, and Finley felt a tug at her heart for this girl.

Solstus was ready and volunteering before the second name was entirely out of the escort's mouth. A huge smile on his face, he waved to the crowd and laughed as he walked towards the platform. In fact, it was all he could do to not jog up there. This was what he had trained for his entire life, he couldn't help but be a bit excited about the prospect of finally seeing it come to fruition. Extending his hand to vigorously shake Windsor's, he stepped up to the microphone to introduce himself. "I'm Solstus Faerbilt, and…"

He couldn't even finish the sentence before the applause started. His grin grew even bigger as he ran a hand through his dark red hair. The crowd loved him, he was the district's golden boy! There was no way he couldn't win these games. Giving Windsor a roguish wink, he threw his arm around her shoulders and pulled her next to his body to continue waving to the crowd. Carp shook his head slightly – egotistical kids were the easiest to break once they realized how fragile their bodies actually were in the arena.

It was almost a relief for Solstus to make it inside the Justice Building, away from the roaring crowd. It was calmer and quiet inside the waiting room, where his family rushed in almost immediately. He grabbed Lunae in a hug first and she laughed as she brushed tears out of her eyes. "What's happening, sis, you haven't gone soft on me have you?"

She playfully punched him in the arm before grabbing him for another hug. "Of course not! I'm just so proud of my big brother, you know?" Solstus returned her watery smile, and kept close hold on her shoulders before reaching to hug his parents. The arena was going to be terrifying without Lunae. They had trained together since he could remember, and he had no idea how to fight without someone watching his back. He hadn't even considered that he would be going into a situation with no one to trust.

"Here, take this," Solstus felt something hard pressed into his hand. He glanced down and saw it was a seashell carved carefully into the shape of a dolphin. "I made it for you. Use it as your token, okay? So you'll always have a piece of me and a piece of home with you." Solstus ran his fingertips over it gratefully. That was just what he was thinking – Lunae always seemed to know what he was feeling, even when he didn't know how to voice it himself.

A lump rose in his throat, but before he could even begin to get emotional, his family was whisked out and replaced by a steady stream of his training partners. Nafia and Siletta were first, with more teasing about how he was going to be an outcast from the District 4 victors for being unable to use a trident, then Ephira and Camarat, who discussed possibilities for the arena. After a thorough discussion of how it might be in an abandoned mine, they were replaced by Casey, Halad, and Neil, who wanted to know whether or not he thought his district partner was hot, and finally Agad, who couldn't remember seeing her in training ever, but thought that she was pretty enough to pull them some sponsors.

Down the hall, Windsor sat with her family for almost the entire hour. She had friends that came to visit, but she only spent ten minutes with all of them, and the rest of the time was spent sitting on the ground with her brothers, playing their favorite game of peek a boo. She opened her fingers and said, "I see you!" and the twins rolled on the ground, shrieking with laughter.

Her parents looked on solemnly as she played with the twins. They both seemed too stunned to speak – although they knew the day was coming, it was much harder to deal with than to just think about it. "Don't worry," Windsor said softly, correctly reading their miserable looks. "How different can it be from spearing the fish?" She dropped her hands to her lap, and tried to clasp them together to prevent any nervous shaking. Her brothers soon tired of her internal problems, and began to tug on her fingers, demanding more playtime.

Right before exiting, her parents handed her a small square of fabric. It was a piece of her brothers' favorite blanket, and she knew immediately it would be her token. Just a small piece of home to take with her, and remind her of why she was there. "It'll be all right. Don't worry, remember? I'll see you in a few weeks, and everything will be better."

The hour passed in a complete whirlwind, and Solstus exited the room in a daze. He walked down the hallway with the peacekeepers in silence, realizing that he had managed to say every singly goodbye without ever using those exact words. It might have been strange, but he had never once considered the fact that he might not make it home. He wasn't saying goodbye, really, it was just a temporary vacation.

When Windsor stepped out of her room, she was surprised to see a different person than the waving, cheering boy from outside. She knew of Solstus, but the two had never spent extended time together. "Are you ready? We have to go outside," she murmured to him, her voice barely audible in the corridor.

He glanced down at her and immediately brought back his sunny smile. "Of course! Let's head on out there and get us some sponsors." The two walked side by side in silence for a while, while the redhead rubbed his fingers over the smooth curves of his token. The doors leading to outside were looming closer when Solstus abruptly blurted out one single word: "Allies?"

His district partner stopped and stared at him in surprise. She had planned on joining the Career alliance, but she was surprised at this quick interest in her skills. "I thought you'd want someone with more… training than me." She commented quietly, casting her eyes downwards for a second.

Solstus shrugged, and glanced at the doors leading them away. "I want someone I can trust. A partner. The Careers won't last forever, and I want someone that I can train with, and know to have my back." Windsor still looked uncertain, so he grabbed her hand and looked intently into her eyes. "You wouldn't volunteer if you didn't have a chance of winning, so I know you're worth it. You're part of home, and I don't know about any of those other districts. So what do you say? Allies?"

Blinking her blue green eyes at him, Windsor gave him a small smile. "All right then. You do have some good points." Solstus immediately gave a real smile. Not one of his overly cocky, confident ones, but instead one of real happiness and a little bit of relief.

"Well, that's good. I was worried I was going to have to get down on my knees and beg," he joked with her, before ruffling his hair again. Windsor rolled her eyes at him, but couldn't help but hide a grin behind her hand. The peacekeepers hustled them forward, and Solstus was prepared now. He slipped his hand out of the pocket that contained his token to wave at the camera crews, subtly flexing his muscles and trying his best to show off. Windsor continued her mysterious, quiet act of half smiling and staring right through the people around her. Though neither would admit it, the idea of having a solidified alliance made the weeks ahead much less intimidating. After all, how bad could it be when they had a partner at their side to face the danger?


End file.
